Whatever Happened?
by Telwyn Dubois
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy reflects on Lucius and her lost love life after the Great War. Part I of a new series, Thoughts of Characters After the Great War.


A/n: I'm not sure what inspired me to write this. It's waaaaay different from my other stories! Angst to the max!

What happened? I stare mournfully at the single rose in the thin crystal vase. A blood red rose, Petrified for all eternity. Oh, how I remember the day everything changed. And the days preceding it. I remember how that red rose represents all that I once had. Before Darkness claimed everything.

__

Narcissa Black clutched at the hem of her sleek blue robe with one hand. The other hand, with the same bone white, tapered fingers, grasped the banister at the top of the eternally winding staircase. Below her lay the Malfoy Mansion Gold Ballroom, one of many.

"Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda Black." An invisible voice rang out.

Andromeda, with her silly little girlness, blushed fiercely and tugged at her older sister's hand. "Come, Bellatrix. It's our turn!"

Coldly, the youngest, Narcissa, swept down the staircase, careful to keep her posture erect. Like she'd been taught, she would never, ever, show weakness. Weakness was death, her mother had always said.

And today, she could not afford weakness. So she hoisted up a cold exterior. Inside she seethed with rage, longing to radiate fury and murder her annoying, irritating mother. How dare she!

Narcissa Alyse Black was a classic beauty, with ice blue eyes, gleaming, straight blonde hair tied up in a French twist, and blue robes, robes that matched her eyes.

Lucius Malfoy. The man, no, boy_, who she was betrothed to. She'd never even laid eyes on him, until tonight. Boy, did she get a shock!_

He was handsome. There was no doubt about it. With his sleek, white blond hair, his pale skin, and his warm gray eyes, he was the epitome of masculine perfection. Most importantly, he radiated good.

She needed that goodness. All her life she had been taught darkness and hate. "This marriage is not for your happiness," Verdaine Black told her daughter. "It is for the Black family assets." That was the tip of the iceberg. Little Narcissa had been forced to far worse.

"Hello, Narcissa, love." The beautiful young woman (she was only eighteen, a new Hogwarts graduate. Lucius was four years older. She'd never talked to him) stared emotionlessly up at the man.

"Would you like to dance?" Lucius smiled, revealing perfect white teeth.

Narcissa nodded and placed her hand in his. His gray eyes glittered as they stepped onto the dance floor.

What happened to that cold exterior, I wonder. How did Lucius beat it down? It was all that kept me human. Yes, those precious months after the walls were gone were the best of my life, but better an entire lifetime of tiny joys than three months of bliss.

Andromeda was the lucky one. She was born with a happy, bubbling personality that could not be quelled. I envy her. Mother forced me so many years ago to forget her. Mother knew that Andy was my favorite elder sister. Bella was _her_ favorite. Mother loved Bella. I detested her. But Mother made me, evil hag that she is, to personally burn Andy's name off. Here Mother's training came in handy. I didn't shed a single tear as I Conflagrated Andromeda Elena Black off the tree.

How I wish I could put her back on the tree. But she deserves better than us. We would only drag her down. Bella, especially. I am forced to pretend that Bellatrix is loved by me. But we hate each other, we always have.

We hide it well.

For that is what the Black sisters do. It is a secret to us, never to be spoken of. We seem like marble statues on the outside, eternally disgusted by something, but we can read each other like open books. Which is probably why Andromeda, when she made a new tree for herself, she sent a copy to me. And I am on it still.

That rose glitters still, innocently laying in that crystalline flute. My husband gave me that rose. It is the only thing I remember of his warmth. My mind drifts back to that day…

__

"Come, dear. Take a walk with me." Narcissa smiled happily, her defenses gone. After three months of charm, her coldness had completely melted. Lucius had shown her so many wonders. How she loved him!

He smiled secretively. "I have a surprise for you." His gray eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

She fairly skipped outside, linked arms with him as usual.

"Where is it?"

"C'mere." Lucius beckoned her to stand in front of a rose bush. "Look at what treasures Vincent has given us. He is a talented gardener, is he not?"

"Oh!" They were exquisite. Each rose was blood red, a stark contrast to the fresh green stalks and leaves. "I wish spring would stay forever," Narcissa murmured wistfully.

"No sooner said, then done!" The handsome young man flourished his wand and shouted, "Petrificus!_" A flash of light._

Then-

"Here, love."

"Thank you." Narcissa held the rose carefully between thumb and forefinger, wary of the thorns. The rose still smelled wonderfully, as it would for ages to come.

"It's a symbol of our love. As long as you keep it, our love will never end." Lucius stroked back his long blond hair, the hair that Narcissa loved to run her fingers through. His carefree grin suddenly turned into one of pain. He clutched at his arm.

"What's wrong?" Narcissa asked worriedly.

"I'm-f-fine. S-see y-you late-later. L-l-love y-you," He gasped. A crack of a whip, a flash of light, and he was gone.

What love, I ask myself bitterly. Lucius is in prison now, and that rose still sits on my dresser. Draco is dead. Dead at the hands of Ginny Weasley. I do not fault little Ginevra.

The "Blacks" had a feud with the Weasleys. Not I. No, I envied them, like I envied Andromeda and Ted. They were completely happy and at peace with themselves. Large family… Well, Andromeda wanted a large family. Her little Nymphadora was more than enough, I should think.

But I've always wanted a large family. And now, Nymphadora and I are the sole survivors of the Black line.

Oh, I did love my son, I really did. He was everything a mother could ask for. That was before he got his Dark Mark. Then he became a bully, just like Lucius.

It's something about that ugly, hated Dark Mark that brings on the madness. Bellatrix was mad. Oh, I liked her well enough until she was fifteen. Then she suddenly ran around torturing everything for the fun of it. Lucius, when he returned, never murmured the words "I Love You" again. We slept in separate beds. He became devoted to his work, I to my flowers. I grow flowers. All but the rose. I hate roses.

Ginevra Weasley is stopping by later to offer her condolences. I am thinking about joining Harry Potter's side of things. Voldemort is all but dead. Potter stripped him of his magick, and he is no more than a Muggle now.

Draco was at fault. He assaulted Ginevra, and tried to rape her. I try to feel horrified for her, but I cannot spare the emotions necessary. I'm too spent, too drained. Ginevra pulled her wand and muttered _Avada Kedavra_. It was the first thing she thought of, and I do not blame her. I know what rape is.

It's what Lucius thought was sex. I blame Voldemort and his accursed Dark Mark for that. Sex is a wonderful, natural thing. He turned it into war.

That blood red rose glistens still, with the dew of twenty years ago still beaded upon its many delicate petals. Despair has gnawed at me for far too long. Using up the last of my strength, I sweep the vase, rose and all, onto the floor, where it crashes satisfyingly. I get up and totter out of the ruins of my bedroom.

On the floor, if I care to look back, lies a rose among the shards of crystal. A single, unbroken rose. A blood red rose.

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BTW, as of March 2, 2005, my site is officially up and running! So click on the link on my author page to check it out!

Then go check out my other stories! Hehe.


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